A/N: Holy balls, batman! I'm at it again! Another multi-chapter!

I'm a horrible person for ignoring my on-going ones, but this one took over.

So I take it you all know by now, of my deep and ardent love of the headcanon of Papalogia. I literally changed my penname because I loved it so much.

Blame my Slayer sideblog and the horrible (amazing) influences that are acnologias-ass and kushexi for creating Papalogia fanart that merely fueled my needs. So, I think I can safely declare that what you are about to read today constitutes as the first fic written in regards to Papalogia.

Buckle in folks, this is gonna be a long one.

A couple notes: Acnologia isn't all psycho murder-maniac here. He's still cold and has violent tendencies, but over here, he's a little tamer. This is mostly because of influences that will be explained later on, but for now, if he seems a little off, understand that it's for a reason. Note two: I'm really playing around with canon here. The truth regarding the Gate and all that happened after it brought Natsu and Co. to the future is totally up for interpretation, so this is reflective of my thoughts regarding it.

Other than that, I really hope you enjoy this! I had so much fun writing it.

Acnologia had been having a rather pleasant Saturday morning.

Pleasant, he felt, was a subjective term. For most, a pleasant Saturday involved no work, maybe some family time, prepping for an evening out, or sleeping in. For the four-hundred and something year old Dragon Slayer-turned-Dragon, a pleasant Saturday constituted as him not having to wake up to a leaky ceiling.

It was degrading, he mused as he padded around his small apartment. Four hundred years ago, he would have been living in palaces stolen from the rulers he had overthrown, but in this godforsaken era, he was forced into a one-bedroom domicile in the heart of Magnolia's roughest neighbourhood.

The Guild he was a reluctant member of, Fairy Tail, had felt that he was more than equipped to deal with the gangsters and mob bosses that infested the area. Even in his human form he was a force to be reckoned with, and he had made that quite apparent upon his arrival all those years ago. Nobody dared to approach him, and people made plenty of room for him when he walked the streets. The arrangement was one he was very comfortable with. He hated humans, after all.

Yet, he found himself constantly in their presence. Try hard as he might to avoid them, he was somehow always brought to close proximity with them in non-hostile environments. In battle, he was more than fine with being near them-he got to kill them, after all, but outside of battle? He was a recluse. He was the exact opposite of a people-person. He had done a fairly decent job of staying a good distance away from them over the centuries, but the moment Fairy Tail had become a legal Guild, he had been roped into joining it by their deceptively powerful first master and one century later he still bore the electric blue insignia on his lower back.

He had spent years trying to figure out just exactly how it had happened, but he had yet to solve that mystery.

Three loud bangs at his door snapped him out of his musings, and one quick inhale confirmed his worst fears.

There was only one idiot who dared to ever knock at his door, and he had the uncanny ability to ruin every decent day he was having by virtue of simply existing.

"What do you want?" Acnologia grumbled as he swung his door open.

God Serena, member of the Ten Wizard Saints, strongest of the Four Gods of Ishgar, and general bane of his existence, smiled brightly up at his long-time enemy (though the blond was under the heavily misguided impression that they were the best of friends) and waved cheerfully. "This God Serena can't come and ensure his best friend is still alive? You should be grateful that I'm gracing you with my holy presence. It's a healing presence, you know?"

"I will rip your spine clean out of your asshole and strangle you with it if you don't tell me what you're actually here for in the next thirty seconds."

"You're certainly in an animated mood today! Normally I have to break something in your house to get you to even acknowledge my existence beyond opening the door for me!"

"Twenty seconds."

"Anna Heartfilia."

Acnologia shut the door.

"Acnologia!" God Serena shouted, pounding on the door. "Acnologia, open up! I know that she's a difficult topic for you, but you need to hear me out here! This is serious!"

"She's dead," the Apocalypse Dragon said coldly, ignoring the way his chest grew heavy with the statement. Heavier than usual, anyway.

"Yes, but you need to know why! Goddammit, Acnologia, open the fucking door! Quit being petulant!"

"Here's for petulant," the blue-haired man hissed, swinging the door open. God Serena's hand froze just as it was about to ram into his nose, and Acnologia grasped the appendage with a snarl, squeezing it until he heard the bones grinding together. To his credit, the artificial Slayer before him kept a carefully blank face even as his hand fractured. "She died. She was using magic that she had no business messing with, and she paid the fucking price. See if I give a fuck."

"If you don't care, then why are you getting so defensive?" the nineteen-year-old challenged. Acnologia's eyes darkened, but he made no rebuttal. The little shit was getting too mouthy for his own good. The older male held back the pulse of dark magic that threatened to escape him. God Serena was strong, but he was young. If he so chose to, he could wipe him out without a second thought. Unfortunately, the Fairies didn't seem to take homicide all too kindly, so he was stuck between the proverbial rock and a hard place. On one hand, he would finally have an excuse to leave (it definitely had nothing to do with the fact that he felt obligated to a certain blond nuisance who looked way too similar to the one before him to keep the Guild intact). On the other, LiVo didn't seem like something he could access while escaping authorities, and he was rather attached to his crime procedurals.

"You have a minute," Acnologia finally said. God Serena gave him a grateful look as he began to speak at a breakneck pace.

"She was trying to bring Slayers through the Gate. Kid Slayers. They just showed up at her family estate this week, and it seems that they have no idea what the hell is going on. Anna's descendant, Layla, was the one who supplied the power for the receiving end, and she's dying. It required her life force to fulfill the requirements. Thing is, her husband isn't too keen on this, and the second she's dead, those kids are out on the streets to fend for themselves. Look, the Council-"

But Acnologia was deaf to the world. God Serena continued to babble on about the Council, but Acnologia found he couldn't care less. Anna, his Anna, had died trying to bring Slayer children to the future. He had spent four centuries trying to figure out why she had been so keen on opening that contraption from Hell, and the answer, the fruits of her labour, had finally made themselves known.

Two lives, both hers and her descendant's, in exchange for, what, two? Three? Slayer children were a rare breed back then, if he remembered it correctly. It was more likely that an adult would hold that power. Nevertheless. He would settle the balance.

An eye for an eye. They had killed her, so he would kill them, and all would be right in the world.

"-agree?"

"What?" Acnologia shook himself out of his murderous thoughts. God Serena huffed, but gently repeated, "Do you agree?"

"To?"

"Look after them."

"What the fuck?" Acnologia sputtered, genuinely taken by surprise at the turn of this conversation. He knew the Council was missing one of many screws vital to performance, but surely there was at least one mentally stable member on there. How in the hell had they come to the conclusion that he would serve as an adequate babysitter? He could barely look after himself.

"Look, you and I are the only Slayers in existence here. I can't do it because I'm busy with the Wizard Saints and I'm barely legal as is. You're from their time, you knew Anna, and you're an actual Dragon Slayer, trained by Dragons. Or...well, I mean, you used to be. I think you still count, though. Point is, you're best equipped to deal with them. Please, Acnologia?"

"Absolutely fucking not," he snarled. "Take them to an orphanage. Divide them between legal Guilds. Give them to Bob, I don't give two ounces of a single fuck, I'm not looking after those menaces."

"So Anna will have died in vain, then?" the blond slammed his hand against the door as the Apocalypse Dragon moved to close it. His blue eyes burned holes into his head. "Her sacrifice will have been for nothing? Clearly, she thought dying was worth something if it meant bringing them here, and if you can't respect that then maybe it's good that she died for them instead of you somewhere down the line because you obviously don't love her as much as she did!"

God Serena wheezed as all the air was forced out of his lungs. He felt his shoulder-blades creak in protest to being pressed up against the wall, and he knew his ribs were fractured at the very least. The hand at his throat tightened threateningly, digging sharp claws into pale flesh just enough to draw little beads of blood to the surface. Acnologia radiated cold fury, trembling imperceptibly from the force of his anger. "Watch yourself," he barked.

"Hey!" a high-pitched voice piped up. "Leggo o' him!"

Acnologia turned his head just enough to spot five little...gremlins. There really was no other word to describe them. Tiny for their age, skinny to the point where he could see bone, and dirty enough to disgust even him, four boys and one girl faced off against him in a battle of the eyes.

Well, only three of them actually seemed to engage in a glaring competition. The little boy with close-cut black hair was holding the little girl's hand tightly as she shook violently, tears running down her face. He dropped his grip on the older blond, who gasped for air and coughed to lubricate his throat, and faced them fully, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What in the ever loving fuck?"

The little blond boy gasped. "You saided a bad word!"

"Shaddap, Sting," the boy with the hair as wild as his own grumbled. "Ya know I swear just as bad and ya ne'er complain."

"'Cause Weisslogia tol' me that Metalicana grew you up a wild animal," Sting nodded. Acnologia furrowed his brows. These names were familiar...

Weisslogia and Metalicana. The Light and Iron Dragons. He remembered the both of them as vulgar pranksters, but Metalicana took the vulgarity to a whole new level. In fact, Acnologia was certain that half the curses that existed today were due to his influence.

"Why're you hurtin' Serena?" the one with the pink hair demanded. Acnologia stared at him blankly. That smell...that fiery tone...

"Igneel," he finally murmured. "The King of the Dragons."

"You know my dad?!" the boy exclaimed. "Where is he? Are you a friend of his?"

"We...knew each other," he said slowly. How was he supposed to put into words the child would understand how much he absolutely loathed the overgrown lizard? Just saying his name brought a bad taste to his mouth. "I know your dragons, too. Weisslogia and Metalicana."

The three boys perked up and immediately began shouting, clamouring over and pulling at his pants, urging him to give them more information on their dragons. He ignored them in favour of staring at the two quietest ones.

"Skiadrum," the little boy said in a voice barely above a whisper.

Ah. That explained his silence. Skiadrum always did prefer staying shut up and in the shadows, no pun intended.

The little girl opened her mouth, but her voice caught and she devolved into another round of pitiful wails. Sighing softly, Acnologia drew in a deep breath and took in her scent.

His eyes shot open in brief surprise a moment later.

Grandeeney had taken on a charge, then. It was expected of her. She never could turn down a pair of soulful eyes, and the little girl had the most honest, wide, doe-like eyes he had ever had the misfortune of staring into.

It was kind of gross how expressive they were.

"So?" God Serena rasped, rubbing his throat as he stood by Acnologia. "You in?"

Acnologia shook his head. "Give them to someone capable of looking after them, Serena. I live in a one-bedroom apartment in an area of Magnolia that even full-grown Mages stay away from. What makes you think that it's a suitable environment to raise the brats?"

"It's okay," the little girl finally said. Silence fell over the group as they stared at her. It appeared she was the silent type even amongst her friends, for the four boys' jaws went slack once she spoke. She walked towards him slowly, and he could tell that she was trying hard not to trip over her own feet.

"It's okay if the house is small," she refused to look at him. "We can all stay together. I don't wanna be alone anymore."

"And you'll never have to be alone anymore!"

She takes his hand and he swears that home is right there in her grasp.

"-oops!"

Acnologia was crouching down and helping her up before he even realized that he had moved. Almost robotically, he adjusted her long shirt and dusted her knees.

"Sorry!" she squeaked, bowing deeply. He could smell salt forming in the air and groaned. This was why he had disliked Grandeeney-she was too emotional, and it stood to reason that any child of hers would be equally impassioned.

"…fine," he finally assented. He decided right there and then that the girl was the most dangerous of the lot. She was way too good at the whole…helpless-yet-hopeful eyed thing. The pink-haired one and Sting whooped in joy, while Metalicana's kid turned to Skiadrum's and dug his knuckles into his head with a bright grin. The little girl smiled, just a little quirk of the corner of her lips, and he sighed.

What in hell had he just signed up for?

"You're the best!" God Serena crowed, jumping on his back and sending him careening face-first onto the floor. Acnologia snarled wordlessly, ready to shove the little shit off and beat him into next week. Just as he was about to ram his elbow back into the Wizard Saint's face, two blurs of yellow and pink flew at him.

"Dragon pile!" Sting yelled, latching onto the darker man's head with a gusto. The pink-haired one imitated his blond counterpart from the side opposite him, and Acnologia was left feeling like he was wearing a halo-brace, but much, much tighter. They had deceptively powerful grips. He gasped when God Serena sat up on his back, crossing his legs and grabbing his hair as if it were a rein.

"I wanna do it, too!" the Iron Slayer shouted, taking his place on top of his shoulder-blades. His fellow brunet ambled over to join him. Acnologia was grateful for the fact that this one didn't seem to want to add to the pile of gremlins on his back.

"Thank you, mister."

His blue eyes locked with the little girl's soft brown ones, and Acnologia silently promised himself that if there was one thing he was going to see to, it was that this one stopped being so fucking expressive. He had absolutely no time to deal with tears and emotions that didn't involve anger at everything.

"Acnologia," he bit out when God Serena pulled his hair warningly. "My name is Acnologia."

"I'm Wendy Marvell," she introduced herself. Acnologia almost snorted. Wendy. Windy. Grandeeney always had been rather fond of puns.

"I'm Natsu! Natsu Dragneel!" the pink-haired one declared. At this, he nearly banged his head on the floor. Igneel was lucky he was likely dead because if he weren't, he would have been at this point in time. How unoriginal could he get?

"Gajeel Redfox," Metalicana's brat called from his back.

"Ryos Cheney," the quiet one murmured, just as the blond menace version 2.0 yelled, "And I'm Sting Eucliffe!"

"I am the great God Serena! Most powerful of the Four Gods of Ishgar, and most powerful Slayer in existence! I-" as he continued to list his 'many' accolades (half of which were completely made up), Acnologia resigned himself to closing his eyes and tuning out the noise.

It would be a while before he finished.

"-winner of Hottest Man Alive two years in a row-!"

Five down, six hundred and ninety-five more to go.

"The Council's on the hunt for a new house for you so you can all fit," God Serena patted Acnologia's shoulder as he made his way to the door. "Don't worry!"

"I've lived here for over thirty years!" Acnologia hissed. If there was one thing he was bad at, it was change. It was probably why he avoided contact with the outside world unless absolutely necessary-the last time he had been ordered to visit the Guild, he had almost had a heart attack upon sighting an SE-Plug. Gildartz had declared him a luddite, whatever that was.

"And it's about time you moved. New life, new start, all that jazz," the teen threw up the peace sign, sauntering out with sway to his hips. "I'll tell you when you can move! Expect it to be sometime this week, so get your shit all packed! I mean, it'll take you a day considering you own, like, two shirts, but."

"Fuck off!" Acnologia shouted, slamming the door harshly enough to cause the wall to shake. Exhaling sharply, he whipped around and caught sight of the five gremlins (he adamantly refused to call them anything else) staring around in wide-eyed wonder.

"It's raining inside!" Natsu said, pointing to a section of the roof that was leaking steadily. The Apocalypse Dragon's eye twitched. He had just repaired that section.

"Where do I piss?" Gajeel asked.

"Do you have anything else we can wear?" Sting crossed his arms.

"It's cold," Ryos piped up.

"Um, I'm sorry, but do you have anything to eat?" Wendy twiddled her fingers shyly.

"Why is the wall black in the corner?"

"Yo, I need ta piss, either tell me or I'm leakin' right here."

"Why is your couch so gross?"

"Do you know when our parents are going to come for us?"

It was official.

He was going to go insane. It had barely been five minutes and he already felt like ripping out his hair strand by strand and knitting a lovely scarf out of it.

Why in the hell did people have kids if they were this annoying?

"It's called a leak, the bathroom is that way, I have a box of shirts somewhere, the thermostat is broken, maybe, that's mold, if you piss here I will rip out your eyebrows, it's twenty years old, and no," he rattled off his answers quickly. At the last part, all of their faces fell and he could smell salt in the air again.

Ah, shit. Three of them were getting teary.

"Look," he pinched the bridge of his nose, trying his best to stay calm. It would be of no benefit to either party if he started yelling, and if he told them that their parents were very likely dead then it would be nothing short of hell and a half getting them to stay calm. "Your parents…left you with me for a while. They're on a mission."

He almost smacked himself. What mission could five dragons possibly have been sent on?

Luckily for him, the gremlins seemed awestruck by the concept. Even Ryos' eyes had gone wide, and from what little he knew of the kid he seemed difficult to impress.

"What kinda mission?" Gajeel asked suspiciously.

"To kill an evil mage," he replied. Mentally, he began running through a list of evil mages from that era. If there was someone vaguely recognizable it'd be more believable, but he could fake one if need be. It wasn't as if five year olds kept up with political drama.

"Which one?"

"Zeref."

Acnologia bit his tongue. Shit. That name was far too recognizable, even now. If one of them went looking him up…

"Okay!" Natsu bashed his fists together and nodded. "Igneel'll kill him in no time!"

"Weisslogia'll kill 'im first!" Sting reared his head back and crashed it into Natsu's forehead. The pink-haired boy reeled back in shock before gathering his wits and returning the gesture. "Hell no!"

"Yer 'bathroom' is tiny," Gajeel complained. Acnologia hadn't even noticed him make his way over there. The Iron Slayer looked into the tiny room with disgust clear on his face.

"You brats didn't even have bathrooms back then," he mumbled quietly enough that they wouldn't be able to hear. He was quite proud of his bathroom. It was probably the neatest place in the house.

"I wanna take a bath," Sting raised his hand. "I'm goin' first."

"No, I am!"

"No, me!"

"Me!"

"Me!"

"We'll do this is reverse alphabetical. You, blue one, you first," Wendy perked up while the other three groaned. Ryos just stared at him silently.

It was starting to get creepy.

"Um...Acnologia-san? How do you make the water come?"

It was going to be a very long day.

After everybody had figured out how to turn the tap on (and what a showerhead was. No, it was not for fighting, put that down you pink-haired freak of nature-) and how much soap was enough to lather and not cause a bubble flood akin to the one from when Makarov's grandkid had accidentally thrown in too much detergent in the washing machine, Acnologia had turned on the Lacrima-vision and let them gawk at the news while waiting for their turn in the shower. While they were distracted, he decided to brave the mess that was his closet for something clean for them to wear.

He blanched when he realized he would have to go out with them to buy clothes.

"What are you doing?" Ryos asked quietly. The proclaimed bringer of chaos fought back the instinctive desire to smack the kid across the room for sneaking up on him, and settled for jerking ever so slightly. He wasn't used to being snuck up on. Skiadrum had done a good job with this one, he would admit that much.

"Getting you clothes."

Bingo. There were two clean black shirts right on the hangers. Three more to go.

"Oh."

Acnologia plucked a white wife beater off a pile in the corner and sniffed it delicately. Clean enough, he supposed.

"Do you have salve?" that had him turning around in mild curiousity. "For?"

"We all woke up a little hurt. Lady Heartfilia tried to help, but I think the dressings are getting old," Ryos explained.

"Do you remember anything?" Acnologia asked as he rose with five shirts in hand and strode over to his side table. He had a first aid kit stored in there somewhere. Meanwhile, interest raged within him. They had yet to mention the Gate or Anna, and all he really cared about was the latter. Had they even met their saviour?

"We only met a few days ago," Ryos said. "Skiadrum wanted us to get to know each other so we could be friends. We went to bed one night and woke up in the same field, but we couldn't smell them. Lady Heartfilia was there and she led us home, but she was sick. That's when God Serena came and got us. He told us that you were one of the only Slayers he knew of in the area."

So even Serena had lied. They had no idea that they had traveled four hundred years into the future. They had no idea that someone had died to keep them safe. Someone close to Acnologia. Heat bubbled in his chest and he fought to keep his composure still. He wanted to know what was so dangerous back then that Anna had died to save them. What the hell had been so urgent that he had lost the one person he had ever truly cared for as she strove to ensure their safety first. Whatever it was, he would have been capable of handling it if she had just fucking asked.

What was so special about them, dammit?

"Here," Acnologia held out the kit. Ryos furrowed his brows. "What do I do with it?"

Huffing shortly, the blue-haired man popped open the kit and indicated that he should sit down. "Where are you hurt?"

Ryos rolled up his pants leg and pointed to a shallow gash. "I took off the dressings."

There was no point in asking how the kid had sustained the injury. It was probably something that had occurred in the past-past. It didn't seem to be the product of magic, but he couldn't rule out melee. Acnologia swiped at the cut with one of the wet wipes and slathered on some of the clear paste that Porlyusica had provided him with. "Don't dress it tonight, it'll be fine in the morning."

"Thank you," Ryos nodded, standing up. "I'm going to go and watch the…um…"

"Lacrima-vision," Acnologia supplied.

"Ah."

He changed his mind, Acnologia mused as the kid left the room. He quite liked this one. He was blunt. A rare quality in this era.

Acnologia had discovered three things during dinner that night.

One. The Slayer children had voracious appetites. It was like they hadn't eaten in eons, the way they stuffed themselves with his leftover takeout. He would have to go shopping for actual healthy food along with the clothes. It wasn't as if they could live on a diet of hakka chow mein and sesame chicken forever. He was pretty sure that could kill them.

Two. They had zero table manners. Wendy and Ryos made attempts with the cutlery, while Natsu and Sting went at the food with their hands, and Gajeel was quite content to eat his spoons and forks. That brought up the issue of elemental food. Metal, fire, and air was easily accessible. Where in hell was he supposed to buy shadows and light so they could eat on demand?

Three. They were deceptively small for their ages. Natsu and Gajeel were a whopping seven years old, yet their tiny statures had them at the same physical appearance as the other three, who were five. He couldn't ever remember being that small. At all. Had they not been trained enough? He had met children their age in the Guild who were easily twice as tall and they trained day in and day out. Maybe it was one of those evolutionary things that Precht used to bitch about back in the day. He had never really paid attention.

"Where do we sleep?" Natsu asked.

Fuck. He hadn't thought about that. His bed was big enough to fit all five, so that left him with the options of the sofa or the nasty old roll out bed stored under said sofa.

"Follow me," he led them to his room and jerked his head in the direction of the bed. "There."

"Where will you sleep?" Wendy stared up at him with worried eyes. He almost gagged. He hadn't seen so much concern roll off a person for a virtual stranger since Mavis, and he knew from experience that the three-foot tall tactician had been as naïve as could get when it came to people. She had let Zeref train her, after all, and if that wasn't straight up idiocy, he didn't know what was.

"Sofa," he replied shortly. "Now get in."

It took a few minutes for them to find an arrangement that wouldn't end up in complete bloodshed. In the end, Natsu and Gajeel took up the corner spaces, with Wendy, Sting, and Rogue filling the middle in that order.

As he turned to leave, Sting's voice stopped him.

"Thanks, Acnologia-san! You're really nice, y'know?"

A small part of him died at that. There had been exactly four people in the world who had declared him 'nice' prior to this kid. Three of them were dead, and the other was on his way to being killed at his hands.

Now that he thought about it, all of them were blonde, too.

Huh.

"Shut up," he deadpanned, closing the door without waiting for any other shows of gratitude. He could live his whole life without being called 'nice', and it would be a blessed existence indeed. He was the Apocalypse Dragon, dammit. The one that parents told their kids would come and eat them if they didn't do as they were told. He was not…nice.

Cruel. Vicious. Demonic. Monstrous. Murderer. All of those were acceptable adjectives.

He plopped down on his sofa and prepared for yet another night of tossing and turning. Turning over to avoid being stabbed at by a loose spring, Acnologia wondered if he was going soft. If he had been asked to do this fifty years ago, he would've answered with an Apocalypse Dragon's Roar and laughed as the gremlins screamed for mercy. Now, he was creating a mental itinerary for tomorrow's trip for supplies.

"Item one," he muttered, rolling over and burying his face in the musty cushions. "Research torture from X400 and select one method to apply to Serena."

Between entertaining his murder fantasies, Acnologia couldn't help but let his thoughts stray to Anna. It had been a while since he had allowed himself to think about her. After all, every time he did he wound up with a weight on his chest that refused to budge. This time, however, when he thought of her it was…fine. No pain. Just a weariness that was brought on by years of silent mourning and festered hate. He wasn't sure if that was any better, but at least it was something.

He groaned quietly when he detected the faintest hint of tears in the air.

There was no way he was going to deal with them getting all upset in the middle of the night, so he buried his face in deeper into the cushions and hoped that the dust would mask it just enough that he could attempt to get some rest.

Acnologia was definitely not having a pleasant Saturday.

A/N: If you can't tell already, implied Annalogia.

If it seemed rushed, I apologize. This was a fairly dry chapter in terms of content simply because it was the introduction. Rest assured that it will reach a steady pace in the next chapter. I just needed to get the whole...you know, "shit I've got kids now" shock of the first day over with, and it seemed best to do so in this way.

Thanks for reading!

-Touko